The Prodigal's Return
by Nonny A
Summary: Steve's assignment includes faking his death.


Lt

DISCLAIMER: "Diagnosis Murder" and the characters in it are owned by CBS and Viacom and are merely being borrowed here for recreational, non-profit purposes.

RATING: PG

SUMMARY: Steve's assignment includes faking his death

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The Prodigal's Return

Lt. Steve Sloan looked around the boat house where he was locked in, searching for some means of escape. He was investigating a drug smuggling operation, and he had received a message to meet an informant at this boat house. However, when he entered the building, someone had knocked him out and locked him in. He tried going out a window, only to find himself being shot at. When he reached for his own gun, he realized that it was missing – obviously, they had disarmed him before leaving him there. Apparently, whoever it was was determined that he stay in the boat house. He was trying to figure out what they thought they were accomplishing by this, when he noticed a black box with wires attached to it nestled in among some tanks of spare fuel in a corner. _Well, that answers that question,_ he thought. Realizing that he probably only had moments before the bomb blew, he searched desperately for some way to get out without being seen by the gunmen outside. 

As he checked out the back of the boat house, he realized that a couple of the floor boards were decaying. Grabbing an old oar that was lying around, he beat a hole through the rotting wood, and managed to widen it just enough that he could squeeze through and drop into the water below. He had barely made it through, squirming as his belt caught on the jagged wood, dislodging his badge, when the building exploded above him. 

Steve woke up with a pounding headache, feeling somewhat disoriented – a feeling intensified by the fact that he didn't recognize anything around him. As memory returned, he recalled the explosion and realized that he must have been knocked unconscious by the falling debris. Looking around, he saw that he was lying on a bed in a somewhat sparsely furnished room. It certainly wasn't a hospital, however, and he wondered where he was and how he got there – and whether he was going to like the answers to those questions when he got them. 

The door to the room opened, and Steve tensed as a man entered. "So, welcome back to the land of the living," the man said. Steve relaxed as he recognized Ed Bingham, the DEA agent with whom he had been working on this case. 

"Thanks," Steve responded. "I seem to recall thinking I was probably leaving it permanently."

"You almost did. We found you washed up on the shore just after the explosion. We pumped the water out of you and brought you here."

"I appreciate it," said Steve. "Just where is 'here', by the way?"

"A little 'safe house' we keep in the area. We figured we'd better keep you under wraps until we know where we are." The agent pulled a chair over near the bed and sat down. "Why don't you tell me exactly what happened."

"I had a meeting set up with my contact, and he was giving me the details of where and when they're planning on setting up their next deal. We got interrupted before we could finish, though, so we arranged to meet in an hour at that boathouse. When I got there, somebody knocked me out and locked me in."

"You think somebody overheard your conversation?"

"It's possible," Steve replied grimly, "but if they did, they knew to listen in ahead of time. One of the things my informant told me was that they had a contact in the Department."

"Did he say who it was?"

"No, we were interrupted at that point."

The two men were silent for a moment, pondering the implications. Agent Bingham spoke first. 

"When did they say the drug deal was going down?" he asked.

"Day after tomorrow," Steve replied, "at 10:00 a.m. down at the docks. Assuming they don't change it now."

"There's no reason why they should reschedule," Bingham said, considering. "They think you're dead."

"How can you be sure of that?" asked Steve.

"Because I saw them leave before we fished you out of the water," replied Bingham. "And they'll find your gun and your badge among the debris. I imagine you're being officially declared dead by the Department right about now."

"What?!" exclaimed Steve. "Didn't you report back to the Captain?"

"Look, Sloan," Bingham stated in a hard tone, "we've been working on getting this gang for a year, and you've just confirmed what we'd already started to believe – that there's a leak in your department. I'm not about to jeopardize everything now that we're so close to wrapping this up."

"There's no way the captain is the leak," Steve declared firmly. 

"Maybe," said Bingham. "But I'm not taking any chances. You can just stay dead for two days until we bust these guys. The Department'll get by for that long."

Steve was about to argue about it, when a worse thought struck him. "What about my father?" he asked suspiciously. "You planning on letting him think I'm dead, too?"

Bingham fixed him with a hard stare. "We'll do what it takes to keep this investigation viable," he declared.

"Forget it, Bingham!" Steve said angrily. "I am not putting my father through that. You don't want to tell the Department, that's one thing – **you** can explain it to the Captain when it's over. But we let my father know now."

"The only way for this to work is to make sure that nobody outside this room knows that you're alive. If these guys get the slightest hint that you might not be dead, they'll cancel the deal and we'll be back at square one. I am not going to let this entire investigation be wasted for two lousy days of keeping you under wraps." 

"You don't have to risk your investigation," Steve replied scornfully. "All we have to do is get the message to my father that it's just a setup and I'm really alive. He can keep his mouth shut – it's not exactly the first time he's been involved in a highly confidential operation."

"Look, Sloan, it's not just the investigation that's at risk," said Bingham, trying a different tactic. "If they find out you're still alive, they'll probably come after you to keep you from testifying to what you've found out about them. Wouldn't it be better to have your father think you're dead for two days rather than risk having you dead for real?"

"Those aren't the only options." Steve refused to back down. "You can get a message to my father without letting anyone else know. And if you explain the situation, he's sure as hell not going to let anyone know." He saw that Bingham was still adamantly opposed to the idea, and his anger grew. "Look, we either inform my father that I'm still alive, or I'm walking out of here right now, and you can flush your precious investigation right down the drain!"

"You leave here when I say so, Sloan!" shouted Bingham.

"Try and stop me," retorted Steve, getting up and moving to the door. Bingham moved quickly to bar his way and the two men confronted each other for a moment, neither willing to back down.

"Get out of my way, Bingham." Anger and determination were clearly apparent in Steve's voice. "Short of shooting me, there's no way you're going to keep me here. And I don't think the DEA will look kindly on one of its agents shooting a fellow law enforcement officer."

Bingham stared at him angrily for a moment longer, then backed off. "Alright, Sloan, you win," he capitulated reluctantly. "I'll take care of it."

Steve eyed him suspiciously. "I want your word that you'll see that my father knows I'm alive."

"Okay already. You have my word that he'll be notified."

Steve held his gaze for a moment longer, then nodded and relaxed a bit. "Good." As Bingham turned to leave, Steve added, "Oh, and Bingham…" Bingham looked back. "See if you can find me some aspirin somewhere, while you're at it." Bingham just glared at him and walked out. Steve didn't hear him mutter to himself out in the hallway "I'm not risking this investigation for the sake of sentimentality. After all, I never said **when** he'd be notified…"

Chapter 2

At Community General Hospital, Mark Sloan and Jesse Travis were in Mark's office replacing a slew of knickknacks that had been knocked off Mark's desk. 

"You know, Mark, you really ought to consider getting rid of some of this stuff," Jesse commented as he viewed the resulting cluttered desktop. Mark surveyed his desk with rueful amusement. 

"I suppose you're right," he said with a smile. "But every time I try, the stuff just seems to refuse to leave!"

Just then, they heard a knock on the door, and Mark called "Come in!" Captain Newman, Steve's commanding officer, entered the room.

"Hello, Captain," Mark said, coming around the desk with a welcoming smile on his face. "It's always nice to see you – have a seat."

Captain Newman remained standing, looking at Mark somberly. He hated what he was about to do; it was the worst part of his job, and he was well aware of the close relationship between Mark and his son. 

"This isn't a social visit, I'm afraid," he said. He watched the smile and the color fade from Mark's face as he noted the captain's voice and expression; Newman reflected that that was one thing about Mark Sloan – he was always quick on the uptake. 

"Steve?" Mark's voice was full of dread. Jesse looked at him quickly and then back at the Captain who nodded.

"I'm afraid I have to tell you that Steve was killed today in the line of duty," he said heavily.

The last of Mark's color drained from his face as he literally staggered for a moment, leaning back against his desk for support, as the bottom dropped out of his world. Jesse took one look at him and moved quickly to his side, fearing that his friend was going to pass out. He kept one hand supportively on Mark as he asked with difficulty, "What happened?"

"He was killed in an explosion while attempting to contact an informant about a case he was working on."

"Where is he?" Mark asked hoarsely. "I want to see him. I want him brought here."

Captain Newman hesitated for a moment. "I'm afraid that won't be possible," he said, "we haven't been able to recover the body – the tide was going out, and we figure …"

"Maybe he got out," Mark interrupted eagerly. "If there's no body, how do you know …"

Captain Newman interrupted before Mark could get any further, knowing that it would be crueler to allow the doctor to build up false hopes. "I'm sorry, Mark," he said, "but I'm afraid there isn't any room for doubt. An agent who was assigned to the case with Steve saw him enter, and saw the building blow. Nobody came out." He paused for a moment as this sank in, and Mark sagged back against the desk, the hope dying out of his face. "We found his gun and his badge," the captain continued. "We even checked the numbers – there's no doubt that they're his." He held out Steve's badge, which showed unmistakable signs of scorching. "I thought you might want to have this," he said. Mark took it hesitantly, and turned it over in his hand. His head bowed and tears flooded his eyes as he tried to thank the captain. 

Jesse put his hand on Mark's shoulder and squeezed, battling his own grief at the sudden loss of his best friend. The captain looked on in sympathy. "I know how rough this is," he said sadly. "I can't tell you how sorry I am, Mark." Mark waved a hand wordlessly, unable to respond. "If there's anything you need, anything I can do," the captain said, "just call me." Mark nodded with difficulty, and Newman turned and left.

Mark stared at the badge in his hand, clinging to it as if it were a tangible link to his son. He couldn't seem to think, he couldn't seem to move; it was as if he were suspended in time, afraid to wake up to a reality he didn't want to accept. He was barely aware of Jesse gently maneuvering him into his desk chair, talking to him in a gentle tone, saying things he didn't even hear. He didn't even notice when Jesse told him he'd be right back and disappeared for a moment. Not until Jesse held the glass of water he'd gone for to his friend's mouth did Mark respond.

"Come on, Mark, drink it," urged Jesse gently. 

Mark took the glass dazedly and looked up at his young friend. "Jesse …" He couldn't continue past the constriction in his throat. He tried to swallow some of the water as Jesse pressed it on him. He managed to drink a little. His gaze fell on a picture of Steve and himself on his desk, and he closed his eyes in pain, burying his head on his folded arms on the desk. 

As Jesse stood by him, wondering how best to help him, the door to the office opened and Amanda came in. 

"Jesse, you paged me?" she started to ask and then noticed Mark, slumped face down at his desk. She started forward in alarm. "Mark…?"

Jesse intercepted her. "Amanda," he said, his own voice choked with emotion, "Steve's dead."

Amanda stared at him in horror, tears welling up in her eyes. "Oh God, Jesse, no" she breathed. She moved to Mark's side and knelt beside him. "Oh, Mark, I'm so sorry," she sobbed. She pulled him into a hug, and felt him cling to her. 

Mark held tightly to Amanda for a minute, feeling the sympathy and shared grief. He knew that Jesse and Amanda both loved Steve, too, and knew that they were trying to support him. He made an attempt to pull himself together, and he sat back and looked around the room, feeling as if he had just been dropped into a strange and dismal new environment. He looked up at his friends and read the concern in their faces. "I'm sorry, guys," he managed to say. "I just don't…" His throat tightened up again, and he stopped. Jesse and Amanda exchanged glances.

"Mark, let me take you home," Amanda said gently.

Mark looked at her helplessly and nodded. 

Chapter 3 

Two days later, Steve Sloan was sitting in a car with agent Ed Bingham, waiting for the drug deal to go down. He was feeling extremely relieved to be there; the day and a half of waiting in the 'safe house' had been extremely wearing on his nerves. Bingham had insisted that Steve not leave the house for any reason, and since there was only one other agent staying there, there hadn't been much in the way of diversion. Steve was just glad that Bingham mostly kept out of his way. He found it hard to relate to a man who was focused on his job to the exclusion of caring about any of the people involved. They had never exactly been destined to be friends, but since the disagreement about notifying Mark, the antipathy between the two men had been barely restrained. 

Steve had had plenty of time during the boring hours of waiting to think about what he was going to do when he got home. While his father was presumably informed, there was no doubt that Steve would have a deal of explaining to do in some other quarters. He had every intention of making Bingham explain the situation to Captain Newman, but there would be others, like his partner, Cheryl, who would require a personal explanation. Steve wondered if his father had let Jesse and Amanda in on the secret. He would certainly know he could trust them, but given that Bingham was just the type to harp on the potential danger to Steve if any breath of his continued existence got out, it was quite possible that his dad would refrain from clueing in even their two best friends. Which meant, of course, that Steve would have a lot of explaining to do in that quarter as well. And the longer he was gone, the harder it would be for everyone. In fact, the more he thought about it, the more convinced he was that the whole charade just wasn't worth the pain it was inflicting on a lot of people. However, there was no backing out of it at that point. 

All in all, Steve was quite anxious, the next morning, to get this whole show on the road and be done with it. So it was not surprising that he was the first to spot the arrival of the first round of players.

Meanwhile, back at Community General, Jesse and Amanda were worrying about Mark. They had managed to convince him that he was in no shape to be trying to work at the hospital, and even Mark had to admit that they were right. There were many jobs where you could keep yourself reasonably distracted at work without risking any serious harm through inattention or mistakes, but being a doctor, especially a surgeon, certainly wasn't one of them. So Mark had stayed at the beach house, battling the emptiness and grief by spending long hours on the beach, alternately walking and sitting on the log where he usually found Steve when his son was upset about something.

"I'm telling you, Jesse, I don't think he's eaten in two days except for that little bit of dinner we managed to get down him last night," said Amanda worriedly.

"I know," Jesse replied. "I don't think he's been sleeping much either. He looked terrible last night." He sighed. "I guess there's not much we can do except wait for time to soften the pain."

"That's likely to take too long. Mark's going to make himself sick if he keeps on like this. I'm going to go out there and bring him some soup and make sure he eats it," said Amanda with more conviction than she felt. 

Jesse looked after her with sympathy. It was doubly hard to have just lost one good friend and to helplessly watch another fade away before your eyes. The need to do something, anything, to help was overwhelming. 

__

Maybe we should find some way to have Mark come back to work, thought Jesse. _I'm sure he needs to be doing something, too._ Just then, Jesse was paged back to the ER, and gratefully went off to do something where he could feel useful to somebody.

Chapter 4

The drug raid was a success. They had managed to take everybody by surprise and round up both dealers and buyers, with a relative minimum of damage. Steve was ready to get out of there and back to his life.

"Look, Bingham, everything's under control here. It's time I got back."

"Alright, Sloan," Bingham replied dismissively. "Oh, and thanks for your help," he added as an obvious afterthought.

Steve looked at him in disgust. "There's a little matter of transportation," he said. "As an officially dead person, I don't seem to have my car here," he reminded the DEA agent. "Think you can have one of your people give me a ride to Community General?"

Bingham finally gave Steve his attention. "Community General?" he asked. 

"Yeah, where my father works, remember? I'd like to let him know this is over and then I can either bum a ride from him or borrow his car."

Bingham considered this. "I want to go to the hospital and question Martinez anyway," he said, referring to one of the dealers who had been shot in the raid. "I'll give you a ride."

"Thanks," Steve said briefly, reflecting that he could probably put up with Bingham's company for a few more minutes.

Twenty minutes later, Steve and Bingham entered the Emergency Room at Community General Hospital. Steve was looking around for any sign of his father, when he spotted Jesse in the hallway and went toward him. Jesse looked over and saw Steve, and froze, staring.

"_St..Steve??!_"

Steve went up to him and smiled ruefully. "Hi, Jess. Surprised to see me, huh?"

"I can't believe it!" Jesse grabbed his friend by the arms and looked him over. "It's really you! They said you were dead! Does Mark know yet? God, he must be thrilled!"

Steve laughed slightly at the verbal run-on. "Actually, Dad knew all along, Jesse. In fact, I was kind of hoping he would have let you and Amanda in on it, but I guess they convinced him not to…"

Jesse interrupted him. "What do you mean Mark knew all along? He's been absolutely devastated – he thinks you're dead!"

Steve felt a faint stirring of alarm. "It must have been an act, Jesse," he said uneasily. "I told them I wouldn't go along with this crazy stunt unless they told him."

"Well, I can tell you that that was no act! I was there when Captain Newman came to tell him you were dead. Not even Mark can change his coloring and heart rate in an act! I'm telling you – he went completely white – he was in total shock. I was afraid he was going to collapse right there. I have **never** seen Mark look like that before, and I hope to God I never do again!"

Steve stared at him, stunned. He whirled around to see Bingham walking down the hall and took off after him. He grabbed him by the shoulders. "You let my father think I was dead??!" he demanded furiously.

Bingham stared back at him unflinchingly. "I told you, Sloan, this operation was too important to risk."

Steve slammed him back against the wall and pinned him there. "And I told you that I refused to go through with this if you didn't tell my father I was alive! You gave me your word!"

Bingham smirked at him. "I didn't specify when," he reminded him. "I'm sure you're about to notify him now."

"You son of a bitch!" Steve growled at him. "I ought to take you apart right here!"

Jesse, who had followed this exchange with interest, figured it was time to intervene. He grabbed Steve's arm. "Look Steve, that's not going to help Mark any. The important thing now is to let your dad know that you're alive as soon as possible."

Steve looked at Jesse for a moment, and then let go of Bingham. He glared at the DEA agent. "I'll deal with you later," he promised. He turned back to Jesse. "Where's Dad now?" he asked.

"He's home," Jesse replied. "I think," he added hesitantly. 

Steve looked at him warily. "You think?"

"Well, he hasn't been answering the phone." He looked at Steve, uncertain how much more to say. "He says he's not ready to handle the questions and sympathy yet. He's really broken up – we've been pretty worried about him. Amanda went out there to check on him and see if she could get him to eat something."

Steve stared at him a moment longer, assimilating this information, not liking the picture it conjured up at all. "Look, Jess, can I borrow your car?" he asked. "I promise I'll give you the whole story later, but I really need to get to Dad right now."

Jesse nodded and handed him the keys. 

"Thanks, Jess," Steve called as he turned and ran.

Chapter 5

On the drive out to the beach house, Steve alternately fretted and fumed. He knew perfectly well that Mark's greatest fear, since the day his son had joined the force, had been that Steve would be killed. He'd already suffered agonies over various near-fatal injuries his son had received in the line of work – Steve hated to think of what he must have been going through for the past two days. His rage at agent Bingham grew. He swore to himself that by the time he was done talking to his own and Bingham's superiors, the man would be an ex-agent who'd be lucky if he could get a job as a part-time security guard at a supermarket.

Steve pulled up in front of the house and was thankful to notice Amanda's car in the driveway. At least his father was probably here – otherwise Amanda would have left by now, he thought. He jumped out of the car and ran into the house. Amanda came out of the kitchen and froze, looking like she had just seen a ghost. _Which, of course, she basically has,_ thought Steve.

"Hi, Amanda," he said diffidently.

"**_Steve??!!_**" Amanda stared at him in shock.

"Yeah, it's me," said Steve gently. "Look, I'm really sorry about all this, but…" He was interrupted by Amanda flinging her arms around him, tears in her eyes, phrases pouring disjointedly from her mouth.

"Oh my God, Steve, you're alive! I can't believe it … we thought you were dead … what happened …. where have you been…" She suddenly pulled back from Steve's embrace, and shoved him hard. "How the hell could you do this to us?!" she yelled at him, tears still streaming down her face. "How could you do this to your father? He's aged 10 years in the past 2 days, he's barely eaten or slept, he's been making himself sick…" She broke off as she saw the look on Steve's face.

"Look, Amanda, I know, I'm sorry," Steve said. "I never meant for this to happen like this …" Amanda interrupted him by hugging him again. 

"Oh Steve, I'm sorry!" she cried remorsefully. "I know you wouldn't have done this on purpose. I've just been so upset about you and worried about Mark …"

"I know, I know," replied Steve, hugging her back. "I really am sorry about all this. And I swear I'll explain everything to you and Jesse later. But right now I really need to see my dad."

Amanda stepped back and pulled herself together, wiping her eyes with the potholder she was still holding. "Of course," she agreed. "He's down on the beach – he's been spending a lot of time there lately. He should be coming up any minute, though." She gave a slightly watery grin. "I went down there and told him that if he didn't come in and eat this soup, I'd bring it down there and spoon feed him if necessary!" 

Steve smiled in return. "I think I'll just go down and meet him," he said. Amanda nodded. 

"He'll want to have you to himself for a while," she said. "I have to get back to the hospital anyway. Just remember that I'll be waiting for that full explanation!"

Steve gave her a quick kiss on the cheek. "Why don't you bring Jesse back here when you get off? I'll explain everything over dinner."

"Okay, but it better be your treat," Amanda quipped as she headed for the front door.

"I wouldn't have it any other way," Steve replied. "And Amanda…"

Amanda looked back at him questioningly.

"Thanks for looking out for Dad," Steve said gratefully.

"That's what friends are for, Steve." She smiled at him somewhat mistily. "Just make sure he eats that soup!" And with that she left.

Steve went out to the deck and looked out at the beach. He saw his father sitting on the log, shoulders slumped, staring out at the sea. He drew a deep breath and went down the steps to meet him. 

As he walked across the sand, he saw Mark get up slowly and awkwardly, like an old man. As his father turned toward the house, Steve was shocked at the change in him. He understood what Amanda had meant when she said he had aged; his whole demeanor was that of the elderly man Steve had never been able to think of him as. His shoulders were slightly slumped, his step weary, his face gray. And as Steve got closer, he could see his father's eyes – normally so bright and full of life and fun – now listless and pain-filled, with the dark circles beneath that spoke of sleepless nights. His heart turned over, and he silently cursed Bingham again, as he increased his pace.

As Steve approached, Mark looked up and saw him. As had Jesse and Amanda, he stood stock still, frozen in shock. Steve saw his eyes widen and his face get even paler than it had been.

"My God, now I'm hallucinating," Mark said hoarsely.

Steve reached him and grasped his father's shoulders. "No you're not, Dad," he said gently. "It's really me."

Mark gripped his son's arms tightly as if he needed the reassurance of that physical contact to convince himself of the reality of what he was seeing. 

"Steve." Tears glistened in his eyes. "Son." Mark wrapped his son in the tightest hug Steve could remember since he'd returned from Vietnam. Steve hugged back, his heart aching for the pain his father had been enduring.

"Dad, I'm so sorry you went through this," he said. "I swear I never meant for this to happen…"

Mark gave a final squeeze and pulled back to look at his son – although he maintained a grip on his arms as if afraid that he'd disappear if he let go. "I know, Steve," he murmured shakily, blinking back the tears that still blurred his vision. "It doesn't matter. Nothing matters but the fact that you're here – you're alive and you're home." His eyes ran over Steve's entire body, checking his condition, verifying that he was really there, really all right.

Steve put his arm around his father's shoulders. "Come on, Dad," he said. "Let's go up to the house and I'll tell you the whole story."

As they walked toward the house, Mark suddenly remembered why he had been heading up there to begin with. "Amanda!" he exclaimed. "Did she see you …"

"She saw me, alright," Steve replied with a grin. "I'm not sure what she wanted to do more – hug me or hit me!"

Mark grinned for the first time in two days. "So which did she do?" he asked.

"A little of both," Steve replied, smiling.

As they entered the house, Mark looked around for Amanda. "Where is she?" he asked.

"She left – I promised I'd explain everything to her and Jesse later, but first I needed some time with you," Steve said. "But she made me promise to make sure you ate the soup she brought!"

Mark smiled at that. "I guess I haven't been very hungry lately," he confessed.

"So I heard. So, since I don't want Amanda getting any madder at me than she already is, you'd better make sure you eat that soup!" Steve gazed at his father with mock severity, settling him down in a chair at the table. He returned a moment later with two bowls of the steaming soup. 

"I thought I'd join you," he said as he placed them on the table. "Amanda seems to have brought several meals worth."

"She and Jesse have been good friends through all this," Mark said seriously. "I don't know what I would have done without them."

"I gather they've been pretty worried about you, Dad," Steve said, affection and concern in his voice. 

"Well," said Mark resolutely, "there's nothing to worry about now." 

"There never should have been anything," Steve said grimly. "You were supposed to have been told that I wasn't killed in that explosion. When I saw Jesse at the hospital, I was totally floored when he finally convinced me that you really thought I was dead." 

"What happened, Steve?" Mark asked. So, as they ate, Steve filled his dad in on the events of the last two days. 

"I never should have trusted that bastard Bingham," Steve declared angrily at the end of the story. "I should have insisted on talking to you myself."

"Steve, you couldn't know that a fellow officer would lie to you about a thing like that," Mark responded.

"I should have guessed," Steve said bitterly. "If not ahead of time, then by the way he stayed away from me most of the time after that. He probably figured I'd ask him about what he had told you, so he just made himself scarce." 

"Well, it's over now," said Mark, with obvious relief. "I'm just very glad you're home, son."

"Me too, Dad," Steve replied gently. Steve looked at his father and was pleased to notice that some of the color had returned to his face, along with the life in his eyes. The signs of fatigue were still there, though, and Steve figured it wouldn't hurt for his father to get some rest while he tied up a few remaining loose ends.

"So, do you think Bingham will really have told Captain Newman what happened by now?" Mark asked.

"He'd better have," Steve replied grimly. "But I'm going to have some explaining to do down at the station myself." He looked at his father apologetically. "I hate to take off again so soon, Dad," he said, "but I really should go down there and make my report. I'm sure the captain expects me to be there. And I'm really sure that Cheryl'll never forgive me if I don't explain the whole thing to her!"

"I understand," Mark said with a smile. "I'll be fine."

"Why don't you get some rest while I'm gone," Steve suggested. "I shouldn't be too long. And I can pick up some BBQ at Bob's on my way back. I promised Jesse and Amanda that I'd explain everything to them later, and I still have to give Jesse back his car. They can have dinner here with us, and we can celebrate the end of this mess."

Mark looked at him with an affectionate smile. "Do you think you could pick up some fatted calf?" he asked.

Steve grinned back at him. "I don't think Bob's runs to fatted calf. Would beef ribs do?"

"I guess it's the spirit of the thing that counts," Mark replied with his lopsided grin. "You're not exactly the profligate son type anyway. It's just that now I know how the father in the story felt," he added, quoting softly: "'My son who was lost has been found; he was dead and is alive…'" His voice deepened and trailed off.

Father and son exchanged looks, and Steve put his arm around his father's shoulders and gave him a quick hug. "You get some sleep, Dad," he said gently. "I'll be back soon."

Chapter 6

When Steve returned to the beach house, he found Jesse and Amanda already there. They immediately pounced upon their friend, demanding both food and explanations. So Steve went through the story one more time, as they sat around the table demolishing their feast with the best appetites any of them had had for the past few days. A festive air prevailed, as they all savored the fact that their foursome was still complete.

Eventually the celebration wore to a close, and Amanda reminded Jesse that they had to be back at work the next morning and should probably allow Mark to catch up on his sleep as well. Steve decided to walk out with them.

At the door, Amanda gave Steve a final hug and told him how glad she was that he was back.

"Yeah," Jesse chimed in. "It was starting to be a real pain rescheduling people's shifts at BBQ Bob's. You know, buddy, you're going to owe me for missing your turn to open up and close down!" he teased.

Steve grinned at him. "Yeah, well, we can add it to the running tally of who's covered for whose unexpected shift overruns!" He sobered a bit then, looking at both his friends. "Actually, I owe you guys for a lot more than that," he added quietly, casting a quick glance back inside the house. "Thanks."

"You didn't dent my car, did you?" Jesse asked in mock alarm, and then grinned as Amanda made a face at him. 

"Just don't make us have to go through it again!" Amanda ordered affectionately.

"I'll do my best to avoid it," Steve replied with a smile. He waved as his friends got in their cars and drove off. 

When he reentered the house, he found his father outside on the deck, leaning against the railing. He went out to stand beside him, and received a welcoming smile.

"It's a beautiful night," Mark said, gazing out at the ocean. Steve looked up at the clouds obscuring most of the stars and passing across the moon, and smiled at his father affectionately. They stood side by side in companionable silence, until the chill breeze made Mark shiver. "Cold, Dad?" Steve asked.

"Just a bit," Mark replied, and yawned. "I guess I should probably get to bed, anyway. Do you have to be at the station early?"

"Yeah, I have a bit of catching up to do, I'm afraid," Steve replied as they went in. "How about you?"

"I think I'll try to do some catching up as well," Mark said. "I seem to have been neglecting my paperwork these last few days!"

"Well, if we can manage to dig our way out of our respective mountains of catch-up, how about going out for dinner tomorrow night?" suggested Steve.

Mark smiled at him. "Sounds like a plan to me," he replied.

Steve smiled back. "Good night, Dad."

"Good night, Steve," Mark replied. As Steve started down the steps to his apartment, Mark called after him, "Oh, and Steve …" Steve looked back at him. "Welcome home, son."


End file.
